


One moment

by abigail89



Category: NCIS, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Medical Professionals, Therapy, figuring life out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs seeks out a trusted agency therapist to help him clarify life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One moment

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : I do not own these characters. No profit is being made, no harm is intended. I’m just playing with them.  
> I needed to write to this story for Jethro. I’m not a psychologist or therapist, and I don’t know much about the Kinsey Scale beyond what I read on Wikipedia. But Jethro found it helpful.

*~*

Odd, how things so self-evident remain elusive from one's notice. And even odder how those elusive things choose to reveal themselves.

One minute you're just sorting through the laundry, clean and dry, looking for boxers to wear to the office that day, and the next, you're on the phone making an appointment with the agency psychiatrist. Willingly.

*~*

"So, what's up, Agent Gibbs?" Dr. Anne Ashby says as she settles into the chair.

Jethro Gibbs sits uneasily. He knows Ashby pretty well, having undergone psyche evaluations with her on numerous occasions: after Tim McGee had been shot; when his team had gone missing in the Middle East; the bombing of NCIS headquarters--moments of trauma that had pulled him down into a pit of self-recrimination, doubt, guilt. Despair. No one, Jenny Shepard had told him once, could beat themselves up more thoroughly when one of his own is injured or killed than Jethro Gibbs. Especially after Jenny had been murdered herself...

He breathes in slowly, a technique he'd learned in the Corps as a sharp-shooter. _Deep breath, Sergeant._ It clears the mind, steadies the hands, slows the heart, even though your heart threatens to burst out of your chest in fear and doubt. Ashby is a trusted advisor, one whose counsel he has sought out and takes without question, much like the relationship he has with another doctor, though that one deals with sick and twisted minds and the dead. And though he doesn't seek her out all that often, on the times that he has, he has been reasonably comfortable. As comfortable as he is with anyone to whom he's spilled his deepest thoughts.

"Well, doc, my life has changed," he begins. As he speaks, he steeples his fingers, drops his hands, crosses then re-crosses his legs. He shifts in the chair.

"Jethro, just spit it out," she commands.

"I'm in love with a man," he says in a rush of softly-spoken words.

Ashby raises one eyebrow but appears unflustered. She nods. "Tell me about him."

"I'm in love with a man, and I can't explain why, but I am." He falls silent for a few seconds. He can't bring the words into focus, but he speaks anyway. "I mean, I call him my boyfriend but I stumble over the word. I think of him as that, but don't quite grasp it. We're practically living together. I do his laundry, he cooks for me. It's like having a wife." He chuckles at the image that comes to mind with such an admission--Bones in an apron and pearls, though in truth not even Shannon had ever made dinner wearing a pearl necklace. "He's a doctor and he cares so deeply for his patients. He cares deeply for me." He chuckles again. "Makes me eat oatmeal and fruit for breakfast, along with coffee. He's kind and sarcastic, gruff, and bossy." He stops, looking down at his hands. "Been a long time since someone's cared enough to threaten my coffee intake.

Jethro falls silent, looking for more words, words to describe the feelings that threaten to overwhelm him. "I let him into my life in ways I haven't since...Shannon and Kelly died."

He gestures with his hands. "I don't know how or why this happened, but it did. I let it happen."

Ashby nods. "Are you happy?"

Gibbs raises his eyes. "Yes."

"Then what is there to talk about?"

"What is there--Doc, all of a sudden, it seems, I'm gay."

"Really?" She shifts forward in her chair to address him forthrightly. "Jethro, you've never been aroused by or fantasized about another man? Before you met your doctor?"

He looks down at his hands. "Yes" he admits.

"But you never acted on those feelings?"

He shakes his head.

"Why not?"

Jethro looks up again. "Because I couldn't. Marine Corps policy precluded it. I didn't want it to be true. It was safer just to admire him from afar and let it be. And, I like women. A lot."

"What do you think has changed?"

"The times. The corps, military policy."

"Besides that. You're not a Marine anymore."

"Once a Marine, always a Marine."

She inclines her head in acknowledgment. "Policy changes do not change the inclinations of the heart, Jethro. You say you've denied yourself sexual feelings for men by repressing them and pursuing relationships with women, women you have admitted remind you of Shannon. Relationships that have mostly been disastrous."

He bristles at the criticism. "Not all of them have ended in disaster!"

"Jethro, what would you call three divorces in 10 years?"

 _Oh._ "Point."

"Yes, point." She opens the folder in her lap and slides on her glasses. "You know that I used some diagnostic tools to evaluate patients for the military, just as a way for me to understand them in psychiatric terms and to help me devise a therapy course. I did the same for you some time ago, after your second divorce."

She pauses to look over a few sheets of paper and then flips through a stack to land on one. "Now, nothing in my diagnostic tests at that time raised a red flag, not in psychiatric terms--you were not psychotic or having a breakdown or exhibiting signs of violence. You were depressed but not clinically, and we dealt with that with talk and an exercise course." She takes off her glasses and leans forward. "You are an off-the-scale introvert, and have become more introverted through the years. You retreat into yourself. That in and of itself doesn't rate any comment, other than I have to work three times smarter and harder to drag information out of you."

Ashby smiles as Jethro grins at her. "I'd like to share one of those diagnostic tests with you. It didn't raise any red flags nor does it relate to mental health or anything. It's not conclusive in my opinion, but simply a diagnostic tool. It's called the Kinsey scale. Do you know what that is?"

Jethro nods slowly. "It measures sexual preference."

"Yes, but it's not meant to be definitive nor does it assign labels. It's a predictor based on sexual experience at any one point in a person's life and one's desires. Some psychologists think it's outdated and terribly subjective; I don't use it for every patient, just ones with relationship issues. Given the state of your mind after divorcing oh, um, what was her name? The second one. Anyway, I thought it might be useful."

He scowls momentarily but then let's it go. _That was a long time ago._

"So the Kinsey scale is a simple 0 to 6 point gradient that measures the strength of homosexuality and heterosexuality based on experiences and, frankly, where one is in their life. Given what I know about you, I rated you at a 2, tending toward a 3. That places you near the center of the scale. It could or could not mean you are bisexual."

"What? So that means I could do both women and men?"

"Well, not precisely. It's just a measurement of preference. In my experience, it's not unusual for people ending relationships to tip one way or the other, to prefer the company of one's gender for a while. Sometimes that is expressed sexually, sometimes not. But for some, particularly those in the military, homosexual tendencies are usually repressed, sometimes with disastrous results, sometimes not.."

Ashby sits back in the chair. "Now, people who may be bisexual express with a preference. In your case it has been for women. But, it is possible that if the right male came along who has personality traits, behaviors, physical features that are attractive to you, you may have a propensity to act on that attraction. From what you've said today, you have found that to be true."

"So you're saying I can choose?"

"We are what we are, Jethro, with regard to our sexuality. I could certainly choose to have a relationship with a woman. But I've never had sexual feelings towards females, even those with whom I have a very close friendship. I have a Kinsey rating of 1, which means I express strongly heterosexual. I could, though, choose intellectually and willfully to have an erotic relationship with a woman, but it would not last because it goes against my nature."

Jethro considers her words for a moment. "Is sexuality fluid?"

"No. All the research bears out that sexuality is in our genetic makeup. As a 3, as a bisexual, your sexuality can be expressed either way, but the motivations and responses are much more complex."

He looks down at his hands. "So would I still be married to Shannon?"

She puts her glasses back on. "Playing the 'what if' game doesn't work for me. I don't like it because there are way too many variables. What do you think?"

He nods. "I'd like to think I would."

"As do I. I don't doubt your ability to commit. It is one of your greatest traits. But, it can also be your greatest weakness, but you know that."

"It's what makes me such a pain in the ass."

She smiles. "Sometimes. But it makes you a great investigator, a great team leader. A great friend." She looks at her watch. "I worked you in today in between appointments, so our time is up. But I'd like to continue our conversation."

Jethro stands and stretches. "I think I would too."

"Good." She walks over to her desk and awakens her laptop. "I have a slot available next week. Think you can make it?"

"Try to."

She walks over and pats his arm as they walk to the door. "Your homework is to really think about this man in your life. Really be honest about what is attractive about him, what he brings to your life. Put it into words. Make the feelings concrete. Be brutally honest about what needs he does and doesn't fulfill."

Jethro nods, and the pats her hand. "Thanks, doc."

*~*

"So, tell me," Dr. Ashby begins as soon as she settles into the chair, "how have your co-workers reacted to your change in sexuality?"

Gibbs sits relaxed on the sofa, his hands loose in his lap. "That was the biggest surprise of all. They didn't react. At all. Well, one of them, Abby, our forensic scientist, was all excited, but she gets excited about everything." He grins as Abby's face fills his mind's eye: love, surprise, excitement fill her dark eyes. "I'm so happy for you and Leonard," she'd whispered as she hugged him tightly. "He's perfect for you."

"Miss Sciuto is excitable, but where you are concerned she expresses her truest feelings," Ashby says. "Yes, she's more often than not on your side and will support you in everything. But she also tells you what she thinks, even when she disagrees."

"That she does," Gibbs says, nodding. "She likes Leo, a lot. They all do. He is, after all, the surgeon who saved McGee's life."

"But he's also the man who's making the boss happy."

He acknowledges the truth in her words. He's caught members of his team looking at him intently during moments when he's been seated at his desk, doing research or writing a report or just....thinking. He knows he's been smiling when he catches Ziva David smiling at _her_ computer. Or, when Tony DiNozzo gives him his quirky, quizzical look, like he can't believe what he's witnessing. He knows he doesn't smile all that often. His is a serious business, where people have died or been injured and it's up to him to find whoever is responsible and to bring them to justice. He takes that work very seriously because he has felt the sting of murder and injustice in his own life.

"So, no negative reactions?"

Gibbs shakes his head. "Surprise, I guess."

"How did that make you feel"?

"Hell, I'm still surprised."

Ashby laughs. "But not as much as when you walked in here last week, are you? You're much more relaxed. What's changed?"

"Well, I read up on Kinsey and that scale and what it means. Parts of it makes sense. I think I understand, when I look back over my life, how much of it is true. How I've denied my attraction to men. That those feelings were similar to the ones I felt for women, and that I chose to ignore or discount them."

He falls silent, and Ashby allows it. The question that hangs over their heads doesn't need to be spoken: _Why now?_

Gibbs takes a deep breath and reaches into his pocket. "So, I wrote down your homework assignment." He takes his time unfolding the yellow writing paper, and clears his throat. "I may have been a little drunk when I wrote this."

_He balled up the paper and tossed it in the general direction of the waste can near his desk; it landed on the floor beyond, mocking him. 'Great.' He took another drink of bourbon, then picked up the bottle and poured another finger or two into the nearly empty glass. He took another sip, then another._

_His mind wandered in the welcomed haze of Maker's Mark. He picked at the red wax covering the neck of the bottle, allowing memories of his time with Leo to flood him._

_'Love'._  
'Good food.'  
'Passion.' 

_The image of Leo, eyes blazing, coming towards him, hands-- his beautiful surgeon's hands--strong hands grasping his face, plush lips covering his, and a kiss that seems to go on forever and ever. The cool wall against his back; Leo's body, warm and hard, pressed to his. Another image of Leo stepping out of the shower and watching him towel off his arms, his face, torso, underarms, penis, thighs, back to his penis. He remembered the rush of emotion, of the insurmountable urge to have this man in his arms, have his lips pressed to his, have this man's penis down his throat. And then arising from the bed and doing just that--swallowing this man whole, hearing the squawk of surprise then a choked plea: 'Never stop doing that!' and feeling that he never will._

_'Trust.'_

_Sitting at a table with Leo, talking about the frustrations with a case and knowing Leo will never breathe a word of it to anyone. But receiving from him acceptance, compassion, wisdom. 'Just give yourself some time to think, Jethro. It'll come to you.'_

_'No judgment.'_

_Seeing Leo for the first time in three weeks, he walks up to him and pulls him into a hug. 'I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Let's pick up some Thai and head back to your place.' Not a word about not calling, emailing, texting. Nothing. Only a broad smile and a quick, 'Missed you.'_

_He looked at his short list of words, words that perfectly describe what Leo added to his spartan life. He knew Leo appreciated being able to spend long weekends at his house; his studio apartment on the base had nothing for him except a bed. 'Are you sure it's okay for me to stay here, even when you're not here?' Of course, consider this place yours. They hadn't broached the subject of living together, but maybe he should extend the invitation. Because Leo made the house more alive, more vibrant just by being in it._

_He added another word: 'Home.'_

_Smiling at the words, he turned his thoughts to what Leo didn't add to his life, what he was still missing. He poured more bourbon into the glass and thought and thought and thought. Finally, it came to him, and he shrugged as he wrote it down._

"Boobs?" Ashby says, raising her eyes from the paper. "Really? That's the only thing you could come up with?"

Gibbs shrugs. "I could've said he's hopeless at ironing my shirts, which he is. But since I like to iron, it's not a big deal."

Ashby wants to laugh but she holds it back. "So the only thing Leo doesn't add to your life is breasts?"

"Pretty much."

"What about nipples? Many men have very sensitive nipples; they're valid sexual zones. You should try it. Try pinching and sucking them, and--"

Gibbs fights the blush that's creeping up his neck. "Yeah, done that. Just miss the feel of a soft full breast in my hand."

She gives him a smile as she slides her glasses on. "So, how does Leo feel about your seeing me?"

"He doesn't know. He's in Afghanistan on a short rotation."

"Ah. Are you going to tell him?"

Jethro shrugs. "Not right now, I don't think. This is just for me to get things straight in my own head."

*~*

_Two weeks later_

"How's the sex?"

Jethro chokes a little on his coffee. "Well, non-existent at the moment."

"You know what I mean," Ashby says, taking a sip from her mug.

"Well--" He hesitates. Can he say the sex has been extraordinary? Mind-blowing? Earth shattering? That he's never felt more at home, _himself_ with Leo's cock ramming in and out of his ass? Loves the rasp of Leo's stubble against his? Dreams of tasting Leo when he comes deep in his throat? Can't wait to hear Leo moan his name in that low rumbling drawl when Jethro's dick slides across his prostate? "There was...a learning curve," he decides to say.

She almost sticks her tongue out at him. "Not what I asked."

Jethro exhales, and decides to ante up. "Sex is amazing," he says softly. "Fulfilling. Hot."

Ashby nods. "Practicing safe sex?"

Jethro snorts. "He's a Navy doctor. Follows CDC standards."

She makes another note on her pad. "Have you discussed not following CDC standards?"

"You mean not using a condom? Not yet."

"Hm. Are you two seeing other people?"

"I'm not. Pretty sure he's not."

"What's the hold up?"

Jethro becomes a little annoyed. "Gee, doc, it may have something to do with only knowing each other for six months, both of us working our asses off and going for weeks without seeing each other. Having spouses who cheated on us because of those long work hours." He stops. "Sorry."

Ashby shakes her head. "Do you want it to be exclusive?"

"Well, you know me and commitment. We're old friends."

"Do you doubt him?"

Jethro shakes his head. "No. But I want him to be sure. I--I want him to bring it up. I want him to say it first. I've had three wives I asked and got burned three times."

Ashby writes in her notes.

"Am I damaged beyond repair?" he asks suddenly, softly.

She looks up and her smile is full of compassion. "No, you are not. That you have opened your heart to Leo tells me you are far from damaged. You're wary, but you are also full of hope, hope that this man will be the one."

He scoffs. "Is there just one for us throughout our lives?"

Ashby inclines her head. "Only you can answer that."

Jethro thinks. He's sure he had loved Shannon--and Kelly--with all his heart and life. He is equally sure he had really liked Diane, Stephanie and--what was her name? Anyway, he knows he should have never married any of them. They were--his inner voice now sounds just like Ashby's--failed substitutes for Shannon. He had still been grieving her loss, searching for someone to plug the hole in his heart she'd left. As with Jen, Hollis, Samantha, and every other woman he'd dated, they’d never felt quite right.

Until now. Leo feels _right_.

"I think," he says finally, "there can be more than one great love in life." He smiles. "I think I've found him. And he's not even a redhead."

*~*

The giant C-17 Globemaster plane taxis up to the stopping point, and within moments, the back flap descends to disgorge its passengers and cargo.

 _Not too many today_ , Jethro observes. The personnel coming off the place are all wearing the sandy brown fatigues indicating they'd been in Afghanistan, even the ranking officers, and one care-worn surgeon. Leo stands tall even though he's weighed down by seventy pounds of personal gear and a large medical kit. The dark hair that had been shorn before he left eight weeks before has grown out and it ruffles in the hot August breeze; his gait is sure and confident and swift. Gibbs smiles, knowing his boyfriend walking as fast as he can because he’s fucking glad to be the hell off that plane. As the ten or so personnel head for the check-in in the hangar office, others run past toward the plane to off-load and drag the cargo to the transport trucks waiting beside it.

Jethro pushes off the wall he's been leaning against at the far right of the hangar. "Leo!" he calls.

Leo spins quickly, hearing his voice. "Jethro!" He changes direction on a dime and strides purposefully towards him. Jethro can't help but break out laughing. It's too good of a moment not to enjoy.

"Leo," he says more quietly as Leo approaches.

Leo raises his hand and unbuckles the chest and hip straps on his pack; he puts the med kit down carefully, but the shoulder straps of his pack slide down his arms and it hits the concrete floor with an audible thud.

"Leo," Jethro says, taking his lover in his arms and kissing him without even looking around.

Leo opens to him--relief, joy, _love_ flood through him. Leo tastes of coffee and exhaustion. It's the best thing he's ever tasted in a very long time.

"Welcome home, love," Jethro says, and clings to him again.

For a long moment, they are silent. Finally, Leo lifts his head from Jethro's shoulder and touches his face tenderly. Tears swell in his eyes. "It's good to be welcomed home." Leo kisses him again, lightly, lovingly then steps back. "Now get me the hell outta here." He turns to pick up his kit.

Jethro laughs as his picks up the heavy pack with one hand, and shoulders it. "Where do you want to go?"

"Home. To your place. And into your bed."

They head for the check-in. "Tired?"

"No, horny as hell."

Jethro laughs again and takes Leo's hand in his. It's going to be the best homecoming celebration ever.


End file.
